


Devil May Cry

by Hipsterian



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Angel and Demons AU, Fascination, Heaven can wait, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterian/pseuds/Hipsterian
Summary: Lucifer was once God's child. But then he pushed him down the abyss, turned his back to him for a crime he has committed (for loving humans more than itself).Since then Lucifer and his army of demons swear to take away all the souls from angels.Will Minho be able to do so when he meets with the most graceful angel in Heaven and above?





	Devil May Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This story was meant to be Jaeboom, but it was someone's birthday and so it turned into Songkim - sorry not sorry; I love both fandoms and ships.  
> Since I'm not a religious person, this might be seen as a little rude towards some, so sorry for it. Anyway, I hope that you can enjoy this little piece a lot, as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> As usual, English is not my native tongue, so be aware of the multiples mistakes and errors you'll find there.  
> Comments are more than welcome, so feel free to let me know your opinion about it! Kuddos are also very appreciated!
> 
> Hope you are having a wonderful day!  
> Enjoy!  
> Love ya'll!

Living in hell was, unexpectedly, fine. It was nothing as he used to hear - not that he could remember, all the memories from his previous life had dispelled the moment he first arrived here, his soul emptied of every recollection or laugh, ready to start all over. So, for him, hell feels like home, like the place he wants to belong.

He can only pinpoint the reason after him becoming a demon, buried in the underworld, living sinfully without redemption, with a moon that bleeds red and stars made of fierce flames, but he is pleased with it, he can’t feel any kind of regret and his time in hell is only enjoyable - he can go to the surface and play with humans, trick and fool innocent, naive angels and steal the souls they come to collect (he can also seduce men and women and relish into the glances and stares they receive him with, enjoy the softness of a naked body under his paws, smoke their lives as if strawberry cigarettes, welcoming them to his kingdom once he is done decaying their hearts - from pink to black he colors them with brushes that feel like harsh kisses against the skin, sucking their pulse like orange juice).

Heaven can wait - Heaven can go to hell for Minho has no rush nor intention to go there, not when hell holds fire stars and uncountable laughs, not when here there are no laws, no punishments and it’s all about freedom (but demons live among themselves in peace and harmony because, having all that they could wish for, violence and crimes have no place on their minds or hearts). Heaven can wait because as far as he is acquaintance with it Heaven has too many rules that are too easy to break - angels are forbidden to feel anything but love for God and hate for demons even if they hadn't grounded them: it is on their essence.   

Heaven is a different story, he has heard from Lucifer himself - who once upon a time was the closest to God and who had golden wings that shimmered under the sun. He has told him how easy for angels is to fall, how effortlessly God turns his back to them, letting them downfall, smashing their bones and melting the feathers until blackening their souls, painting them with coal and smoke and then throwing them like useless trash only for breaking a law - only because he loved humans more than he should. For that only, Minho renegades of God, cursing his sole existence, for being so inconsiderate towards those he had created.

Minho loves humans, he truly does - thus humans are lovely and their souls are ready to be tainted, filled with sins he can easily fulfill for them. For him is so simple to make wishes come true it’s not amusing anymore. Minho doesn’t enjoy using humans as puppets as others do, he likes to corrupt them in the old fashion way, no magic implied: if they fall for him is because he is charming and alluring and captivating - and beautiful, with a soft skin that begs to be bitten, a warm mouth that is tempting and inviting, hands that know where to touch to turn a simple caress into a lustful moan.

But what he does the best is stealing souls - he has a good intuition that leads him to the dying person before any angel can get there and so taking away the shimmering, white pearl is as easy as a kid's game.

He has seen angels but none as beautiful as this one: bending over the dead body, kissing the closed eyes as the last goodbye. He has never seen a soul so weightless, beaming as if made of strokes of sunshine, and its gleam baths his face in golden hues, the moon shivers and pours its own silver onto his wings that are the purest shadow of white and cream. Minho has never witnessed something as reverent as this moment is - sacred and holy as if praying to God - and his empty heart stops beating - it hurts for a second too long and then there is water falling from his eyes, black like the inside of his chest and it glitters on his fingers covered in charcoal that burns his flesh.

He doesn’t understand it but, when the magic is lost and the angel spreads his wings to leave, he can’t find the strength to follow him, to do what he has to - and that is taking the soul from him,  for this angel is so painfully beautiful that his chest throbs in agony and the mere thought of looking into his eyes and see the light for the first time, like a sunset covering the night sky, hurts in ways he has never experimented. He can stand standing in front of him, to have a glance of his face - he sees him fly away, his wings like dawn covering the sky and planing over his head while he dreams about touching the soft feathers that weave his precious wings that shine as if made with jewelry.

He thinks about him. He draws him. He dreams about him every night and day - his figure is engraved under his eyelids when the sun shines; he is all Minho can see. He breathes in and the air tastes like him because, somewhere, this angelical creature lives and Minho needs to find him, needs to stare at him, needs him for his heart to stop bleeding, for his eyes to see clean.

 

Of course angels live in heaven and this is useless because he can’t go there - stepping near will be his end since it irradiates purity, and sanctity is the antithesis to the vagueness that demons are, the stained life they carry and Minho can’t die without seeing him again (and maybe then he will be the one to uphold what is left of his soul). Of course, Minho has no way to find his own star in the vast ocean of the night sky, the one that dangles in his nights and morning starts and in everything he does he is there too because he is living in his heart. He bites his lips and wets the little dot under his skin that shimmers like his wings but tastes like iron and blood.

He lit a cigarette and lets the smoke drown his senses, blurring his face under its color and thinks about him - he lives in his imagination, he is always with Minho. Like this, relaxed, he can picture him pressed inside his arms, the feeling of his feathers under his palm, the strawberry taste of his glossed lips that shimmer as if made with tears (Minho is mesmerized by this angel he has only seen once but was able to snatch his mind, enrapturing his heart). The haze draws his features in the tiny air and he graps it only for it to run away, swirling into the infinite.

He takes all the chances and opportunities to go to Earth; he travels from one end to the other in one day stealing souls from above, trying to get a glance of him again; he fights with angels that are stronger than him and, sometimes, he is sent back with a hole in his chest, struggling to breathe but thinking about him can heal all the physical pain - he is his remedy and his curse, his obsession, the clarity that he lags and he desperately wants and needs and for that he cusses to the night, to the stars, for allowing him to meet this one celestial creature, to have a glimpse of heaven when he is not allowed to have a peek of it). Angels might be arrogant and despise him with all their might but Minho is decided to meet this one, even if he hates him, he needs to stare into his eyes, he is bound to him as if enchanted. 

Minho knows that they are meant to break, that he can’t have him the way he longs for, that there is no way to be together - that he doesn’t even know his name, his existence. That he will hate him because he is an angel and he is the enemy, that hell and heaven are involved in an eternal war - but nothing can’t stop it, the flood of feelings that are overwhelming and out of his control and so he flies everywhere that has a moribund soul to take.

It takes him what days can’t count to find him.

He is late and he is there, kissing cold skin, hands on her cheeks, water running down, splashing on her face as if rain, - Minho’s chest pangs in pain, and he pants, the air of his lungs dispelled in the ocean. He turns around and looks at him and smiles and the whole world lits up, flames burning the ground and Minho can’t mind when all he wants is to be consumed by his presence, by his smile.

The angel’s face is even prettier under the dim light of candles and his essence blends with the perfume of the stars, lingering in Minho’s skin in the places his grace touches him like silk and when he actually feels his fingers over his arms it is better than any sin, it’s like being high with life and golden runs through his veins like rivers from Paradise. Minho sinks deeper into the sea of adoration he feels for him, his chest itches to get closer and his mind is paralyzed, shaking like a scholar and he is left speechless, staring at him.

“You can see me, am I right?” he wonders, and his voice is clear as crystal, soft like a sunset, it reverberates like bells in a church and sing-songs in the end as if lyrics meant to be sung.

Minho is in awe, fascinated, enchanted - it takes him a whole minute to come up with an answer and when he replies to his question his voice shivers.

“I’m Jinwoo” he says, hand reaching his and Minho holds it as if desired, he holds onto it as if his caress could save him - but he is already ruined, crashing bones that ones were a temple of transgression, a body that knows how to sin and make others want to wrong.

Jinwoo beams like sunlight and even when it hurts because he is made of good deeds and intentions, and Minho is his antithesis, he feels the blessing, pureness pouring down like fire into a storm but he doesn’t care, he can’t care because Jinwoo is talking to him, his voice lulling his sense, soft, reassuring, promisingly.  He tells him excitedly about everything and Minho falls into him owing to that Jinwoo is enthralling, enchanting, alluring with a face sculpted by God itself and that is more perfect than perfection can ever be, with eyes that hold stars and constellations and a whole universe entirely his and Minho longs to belong inside of them, these orbs that shine brighter than anything else and that speaks about dreams come true and love and fate.

Minho is Jinwoo’s first friend, the first human able to see him and so he  clings to Minho’s life as if starving: he follows him around and Minho is blessed even when he has to lay a lie over lie to keep his secret save - that he is not a human with sixth sense and, for that he covers the marks on his skin with concealer and keeps his origin a secret even though Jinwoo inquiries him and he wants for nothing but to tell him the truth even if that means losing him forever. He bites the piercing under his lips in nervousness every time he is about to meet with him but every second together is more than he can thank the sky above.

Minho knows too damn well what he is getting into, what Jinwoo has to lose if he ever does to him what he is craving for - to kiss him under the sunrise, to interlace his fingers and feel his heart beating under the pure white of his ribs. He knows that God has no mercy for those who betray him, that for angels loving humans is a crime and to relate with demons is the worst outgrade to commit. If for loving a human angels are stripped of their wings and hurled to the abyss, Minho can only fathom what would happen if heaven will ever hear about Jinwoo laughing next to him, of Jinwoo’s hands holding his, his head resting on his shoulder and the soft smell of peach and air and transmundane power swirling inside his mind, his immense love that stretch until reaching everywhere showering him, cleaning the stains of his soul, making his eyes burn in flames of white and brown and ashes that Seunghoon called them tears - it means that he is washing away his sins with his purity, with a simple caress he deletes all the crimes he has done. Jinwoo is made of love and, thinking that Minho is human, he pours a portion of it into him and Minho lets it soak him as if a burning fire - Jinwoo will consume him eventually, his chastity will clean all of Minho's offenses until there won't be anything left.

 

**A truth:** angels can heal but Jinwoo is Minho’s doom, his redemption, his point of no return; if he confesses the love he feels for him, if he gives his sentiments to Jinwoo, it will be the end and Jinwoo would be the one to suffer the worse consequences. He stays awake nights and days thinking in ways to save Jinwoo, in all the penances God will put on Jinwoo if his feelings ever reach him; if he loves him too. Jinwoo is the one who could lose everything that is dear to him and it will be his fault, his worst crime - but he can't free him, he can't help but choose to love him - and knowing it turns his nights into torments of Jinwoo losing his chore, stripped of what makes him so beautiful.

Little by little he had has the opportunity to know him better, to discover the parts of him that shapes his essence; he has accompanied him around the world, he has flew tugged inside his arms, seeing the sun dying in the sky under his opened wings of the shiniest white, he has witnessed his tears saving lives, he has seen him kissing those who couldn’t see anymore, praying for their souls to meet the ones they loved in heaven, carrying them with so much care and affection that made him jealous, wanted to be it just to be closer to Jinwoo in a spiritual way that for him is not even thinkable. He has never wanted something as much as he wants Jinwoo - for him Minho would fight the Celestial Court, kill all the angels even though this would guarantee his own sentence.

 

**A fact:** Jinwoo is in love with Minho too.

 

Minho makes him happy, happiest that he has ever been. His heart sings contented and his cheeks flush pink when Minho smiles just for him to see - his chest hurts the smallest for a fraction of a second before sinking into something that feels like home. He has never been with someone like Minho and, just like this he wants to stay with him forever, they both alone so he will be able to contemplate the infinite charms of Minho, stare at his profile under the sunrise, wet sand under his feet and waves washing away his wings. Minho is more heaven than heaven will ever be and since meeting him Jinwoo spends as much as he can relishing in Earth.

He is aware of what he will face if he ever let it slip if God listens to rumors about him playing with humans - about him falling deeply in love with one, loving Minho more than he loves God. He knows this will cost him his life, his place, that he won’t be able to fly again above the clouds and three steps over heaven, that he will become a falling angel and his core will be removed so he won’t be able to feel again - he won’t be able to love Minho, not if he is thrown into hell.

**A truth:** in another life they once were soulmates and even after death their bond hasn’t been untangled - they are meant to be, they have no escape from their shared destiny, an indelible fate. One committed a crime, the other one died of pain and now they are both together in a world that doesn’t allow them to be together again.

The devil may cry if he wants the taints to be deleted if he wants to redeem its past, to clean its life from all the sins.

Minho cries at night alone, steam and smoke burning his skin, red and blue and dark hues pain his cheeks and it is painful but it is better than thinking about Jinwoo.

Jinwoo thinks about Minho while he is caged inside golden bars too cold to pretend they are Minho’s arms holding him instead. God has foreseen the future and he is aware of his acts. He knows what they will do, the path they both will choose and he won’t let it happen, he won’t let a demon to steal him his most precious child. Jinwoo tears water the land beneath his feet and it rains in a world that doesn’t know what rain is - it came like a sudden storm that baths Minho with emotions that taste like Jinwoo and so he learns what had happened to the one he truly adores.

“He has lied to you. The one you are so willing to give your love and virtue is not a human. He is a demon and this is what demons do, my dearest Jinwoo” God advises him but Jinwoo can’t find the strength to believe this - and even if Minho is a demon he can’t stop the torrent of feelings that flood his emotions.

He has only one choice: he loves Minho more than he loves God - for Minho inspires him to be better, for Minho has taught him how to be free, how to feel. Minho has expanded his horizon and, for him he will break all the laws of Heaven. 

He will always choose him in the end. Even if it’s plain hurt, even if God hates him for that, forbids him from his land, erase his traces in heaven and he pushes him down the abyss of nothingness. In the end, it will worth the pain. In the end, Minho will be his reward - because he will become a falling angel, he will be welcome to hell. God is aware of it and it bestowals his wish - Jinwoo downfalls, deemed and exiled, his home lost in the clouds and cursed forever, banished. 

Minho can’t trust his eyes when he sees him. Painted in black he looks as gorgeous as ever.  Colored in scarlet, his back hunched, his wings chained in quicksilver, weighing them so he won’t be able to win the wind. Despite all the pain he has suffered, Jinwoo is here, in front of him, smiling beatifically, waiting for him to give what they now can have, a love that knows no borders, a love that bounded hell and heaven.

Minho runs to him and, whilst he is in his arms, all the torments he has received feels far aware, like distant nightmares; Minho is home after all - and heaven can wait because he is in paradise with Minho pressing his lips to his, his hands holding him carefully. He is in the paradise he has dreamt of and his life in heaven can’t relate: this is far more beautiful - it is because of Minho.   


End file.
